In Vino Veritas
by InvisibleSpork
Summary: Basically, Neal gets drunk and seduces Peter. slash Peter/Neal


Written for the collarkink meme on livejournal.

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Peter shook his head as he looked at the slightly sloshed Neal. "I don't think I've ever seen you drink more than one glass of wine before."

"Yeah, well, sometimes you just need to celebrate."

"Yeah, 'cuz this looks like a celebration."

"Meaning?"

"I'm just not sure this is about celebrating," Peter said, gesturing to the wasteland of cheap beer bottles littering the table.

"What else would it be about, Peter?"

Peter shrugged and tried to affect nonchalance. "You tell me."

"No," Neal shook his head, "you don't get to play that game with me. We solved a case, we put the bad guy behind bars, and now," he twisted the cap off another beer, "we celebrate." Neal raised his bottle and took a long draw.

"You know, if this is about what happened-"

"Peter, it's not. Just let it go."

"Because if you're having any trouble with that I can-"

"What? Send me back to prison?" Peter stared at him in shock for a moment. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. I'm just not used to this."

"It's alright, Neal. It's not really a consolation, but you never get used to being shot at."

"That's not even it. I've been shot at more times that I'd care to admit. I'm not used to-" Neal cut himself off and walked to the window.

"Not used to what, Neal?" Peter asked quietly from the couch.

"Trust. Peter, when he had me in there, my entire plan hinged on the knowledge that you would come after me. I didn't even hesitate. I didn't think twice. I just did it. I trusted that you wouldn't leave me there, and I've never done that before. Not even with Kate." Peter opened his mouth to speak, but Neal held up his hand walking back over to sit by Peter on the couch. "But, Peter, what if I had been wrong?"

"You weren't wrong."

"But how can I know that?"

"Caffrey, I'm always right behind you. It's my job."

Neal stiffened beside him. "Well, then, I feel very reassured. We both know how good you are at keeping your pet convict out of trouble." He got up, wobbling a bit on his way to the balcony.

"Damn it, Neal, I didn't mean it like that."

"Yeah, you did." Neal stared determinedly out at the skyline.

"No, I didn't," Peter sighed as he joined Neal on the balcony. "I just – What I meant was – Damn it, you know I'm no good with the talking and the feelings." When Neal remained silent he turned him around, hands on his shoulders, Neal's back against the wall. "Neal, you're my friend and my partner, though God only knows how that happened. I'm not letting anything happen to you."

Neal's blue eyes stared steadily into his, serious under the haze of alcohol. "I'm your partner?"

"Pretty sure that's what I just said," Peter looked uncomfortably away and didn't see Neal move before he felt warm breath and soft lips pressed against the side of his throat. Peter looked completely dumbfounded as he shoved himself away from Neal. "What? What was that? Why – Why would - Why would you do that?" Peter stammered.

"Because you're my partner, and I trust you," Neal stated with the infallible logic of inebriation, following Peter back into the guest rooms.

"Yeah, well, Barkley was my last partner, and I trusted him, but we sure as hell didn't do anything remotely like that," Peter startled as his knees hit the back of the couch.

"Apples and oranges."

"How is it apples and oranges? The only criteria you set out were partners and trust, and he satisfies both of those. Your argument is invalid, I grant you no points, and now I'm going," Peter said, steadfastly avoiding the too-blue eyes staring into his face.

"The difference, Peter," Neal said as he pushed the older man back onto the couch, "is that Barkley isn't me."

"Neal, you're drunk," Peter said in a last-ditch effort as he was suddenly treated to a lapful of very warm, very affectionate Neal Caffrey.

"Yeah, well, in vino veritas," Neal breathed. "I still know what I want."

"Only you could speak Latin while hammered," Peter managed to say before Neal's mouth was on his own.

Peter could taste the cheap alcohol on his lips as well as something undeniably Neal. He was sure this was a bad idea, but as long fingers carded clumsily through his hair and teeth nipped gently at his lips and collar bone, he could no longer think of a reason why. All that mattered was the warm body on top of his, all aggressive kisses and strangely shy hands and thin blue irises drowning in a sea of black.

"You know," Peter gasped as they stumbled toward the bedroom, the alcohol making them clumsy, "technically there was no wine involved here."

Neal grinned before biting Peter's shoulder. "Details."


End file.
